Swarmed
by TheEndOfEverythingYouKnow
Summary: A retelling of "The Swarm at the Edge of Space" through Francis's eyes. Possibly a bit out of character depending on whether or not you think Epsilon was secretly abusive. Inspired by the scene in which Epsilon gets shocked as he's reaching for Francis when he's frantically pressing buttons on the "video game." This thing really needs more character slots…
1. Prologue

(Insert disclaimer here) I do not own _The Secret Saturdays_. Obviously. Anyway, here's a little idea I came up with when I was rewatching "The Swarm at the Edge of Space" and thought up a different meaning as to why Epsilon was shocked as he was reaching for Francis and why Francis seemed terrified, but not overly concerned with Epsilon's condition. Sorry if it's already been done (I haven't seen it anyway), but it's difficult to know since Francis doesn't get a friggin' character slot when the Mondays and Miranda do... Anyway, enjoy. Or not. Maybe just click that back arrow and find something less deranged to read.

 **Prologue**

"What are you up to now?" Zak asks, leaning on the back of Francis's chair and peering over his friend's shoulder.

Francis gasps, startled, and hurriedly rearranges windows on the computer screen in front of him. He says, in a completely unemotional yet rushed tone, "I'm just doing a bit of research on how to turn the legendary Cameroon flashlight frogs into an organized fighting machine perfect for warding off an enemy attack while exploring tropical forests."

Zak blinks and takes a step back.

"Francis, it's just Frogger."

Francis sighs.

* * *

A barren, impersonal room. There was a bed in the corner, pressed against the wall as far from the door as possible, with a drab gray blanket tucked neatly around it. Gray curtains and venetian blinds let in a few, small rays of light from the world outside. Other than that, there was a plain, gray dresser and a desk, with the only sign of life in the lifeless room being the quiet breaths of the four-year-old boy asleep at the desk.

He was small and slight, with unusual mint-green hair and yellow eyes currently hidden by closed eyelids and thick, dark gray lashes. The boy had fallen asleep atop a smattering of blueprints, a tiny pair of sunglasses and a nearly finished remote control helicopter inches from his head. Gray pajamas covered his pale skin and his chest rose and fell evenly despite his awkward position.

Suddenly, the door to the bedroom flew open with a bang, startling the small child at the desk, who immediately fell out of his chair. He looked towards the door fearfully, trying his best not to tremble.

Agent Epsilon stepped through the doorway, his dark glasses flashing maliciously. He was almost as pale as the child before him, but his head was shaven and his green and black uniform covered every bit of skin from the neck down. He marched over to the boy, who stared up at him with wide, anxious eyes.

"Francis," he said austerely, making said child flinch, "Did you take a circuit board and two signal transmitters from my office?"

"Y-yes," Francis whispered, trying to make himself even smaller.

"Where are they?" When Francis didn't respond, Epsilon knelt down and grabbed his arm, causing the child to bite back a muffled yelp. "When I ask you a question I expect an answer! Don't make me repeat myself."

"They're on m-my desk, f-father. I was b-b-building something with them." Francis pointed shakily to the contraptions on his desk.

Epsilon narrowed his eyes and shoved Francis away roughly. The Grayman then rose and moved to scrutinize the boy's blueprints and invention. "And what _exactly_ have you wasted my materials to build?" he asked harshly.

Francis gulped. "I-it's just a r-remote control helicopter. I could make most of the c-components, but I d-don't know how to make circuit boards and wireless transmitters yet, so I… I borrowed them." He became increasingly nervous as Epsilon did not respond. "I'm sorry, I d-didn't mean anything by it. I j-just thought it would be fun-"

The frantic explanation was cut off as Epsilon turned and struck the child across the face. Tears pooled in the child's eyes as he suddenly found himself on the floor with his cheek stinging. He blinked rapidly and whimpered when Epsilon grabbed him by the hair. His faint cry earned him another stunning blow to the face as Epsilon hauled Francis to his feet.

"Graymen do not have time for games, Francis. Toys and amusement are a waste of time that should be spent training, and you _never_ -" he shook Francis slightly for emphasis "-take something from my office without permission. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes, father," Francis managed to eek out. "It's j-just that the other kids at school all have t-t-toys and they said I was weird because I d-don't have any, so I thought-"

Francis realized a second to late that this was the wrong way to go. "YOU DON'T THINK!" Epsilon bellowed, slamming the child into the wall. "I don't care about the other kids. You keep your questions to yourself and _you. Follow. Orders_." The final three words were punctuated by agonizing blows to the boy's stomach. Francis let out an involuntary plea, which resulted in Epsilon snatching the helicopter from the desk and smashing it over his head. He collapsed to the floor, unable to stand, to breathe, or to hold back his tears. Epsilon glared at him.

"If they're going to fill your head with such foolish nonsense, perhaps I should homeschool you from now on." Francis gave his guardian a pleading look and shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. Epsilon kicked him.

"You are confined to your room for the rest of the day as punishment. No meals." With that, Epsilon stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him, locking Francis in from the outside. The boy was left to wonder exactly what he had done to deserve such punishment. He sobbed quietly to himself as he picked up the broken pieces of his helicopter.

* * *

Nine-year-old Francis forced himself to turn away from the small helicopter and returned to his desk in his cramped quarters beneath one of his people's bases. He had convinced Epsilon to allow him to rebuild the troublesome craft by converting it to an intelligence-gathering mission, installing microscopic cameras to record video and audio. Sighing, the boy slumped wearily into his chair, wondering for the millionth time why he was required to justify his every breath.

Once he was tired of moping, Francis opened and closed the drawers of his desk, pulling out blueprints, tools, and what appeared to be a video game. After a few minutes of tinkering, the machine came to life in Francis's hands. Allowing himself a miniscule smile, Francis let himself become lost in the glowing screen and rapidly pressed the buttons on the sides of his newest creation. Thus, the boy almost missed the footsteps approaching his room from the hallway.

Francis threw the game into an open drawer and slammed it shut, turning around just as the door opened. He rose to his feet as Epsilon entered. "Is there anything I can do for you, father?"

Epsilon drew closer until he was immediately in front of Francis. _Don't panic_ _._ Despite his mental efforts, Francis found himself pulling back slightly, trying to put distance between himself and Epsilon. He found himself wishing he could use his personal security field to hold the man off.

Epsilon, torturously slow, reached around Francis and slid the drawer open. He pulled out the video game and held it in the boy's face. "What is this, Francis?"

"A simulator I am working on," Francis stated without hesitation. He'd prepared an "explanation" for everything he invented, usually before he actually built it. "Merely a side project for my personal time. It involves potential battle formations for the weaponization of atmospheric jellyfish, since in our missions I have found them to usually be a nuisance, always just in the way." _Just like me_ _,_ Francis mentally added.

After a tense moment or two in which time seemed suspended to Francis, Epsilon nodded. "You might be onto something," he finally muttered. He then turned and left.

Francis let out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding and collapsed into the chair with relief.


	2. Airship Saturday Responding

**Airship Saturday Responding**

Francis sat in the passenger seat of the small fighter jet, trying to work up the nerve to talk to Epsilon. It had been nearly six months since Francis had been caught with his atmospheric jellyfish video game, and he had to admit the simple product of his forbidden desire to have just a _little_ bit of fun had been blown completely out of proportion.

Everything had been fine at first, better than usual. Francis was gradually being involved in missions, actually accompanying Epsilon instead of merely providing intel from a remote base. Epsilon rarely hurt him anymore (a beneficial development, since, as Francis grew older, Epsilon had taken to beating him with his mechanical hand, which hurt like hell), and Francis spent his tenth birthday relatively left to his own devices, without the usual flood of assignments and threats of punishment.

Then, after nearly two and a half months had passed, Epsilon had suddenly remembered Francis's device. Francis had thought it insignificant, compared to the other inventions he had actually been assigned to work on. However, after an encounter with an inexplicably hostile mercenary air fleet run by some moron in half of a lobster costume went awry, everyone on the base became incredibly interested in Francis's little idea for a living air defense system. Francis didn't have much rest after that.

Needless to say, research and development did not quite withstand application, and Epsilon was becoming impatient.

"What do you mean 'It isn't finished yet?'" Epsilon struck Francis across the face with his metal hand, his gloved right hand keeping a hold on Francis's collar to prevent the boy from falling to the floor or escaping.

"I-I just need more time, Father. It isn't as simple as-" Francis's voice broke off as Epsilon raised his hand to strike him once more. He closed his eyes, preparing for the blow, but was instead thrown to the floor. He wondered if it was over and was about to open his eyes when Epsilon's boot connected with his chest. He cried out as he was kicked again. And again.

"I-" Another hit.

"Please-" He couldn't breathe.

"We c-could still-" He'd be coughing up blood if this didn't stop soon. Then, he had another brilliant idea.

"A test subject!" Francis shouted desperately. The beating stopped. Epsilon knelt down and grabbed a fistful of Francis's soft green hair and pulled his bruising face close. Francis gasped. It took everything he had not to cry out or flinch away with less than an inch of space between his face and Epsilon's. The older agent growled. "What did you say?"

"A… a test subject. A living specimen," Francis responded, very quietly. Any louder and he knew he wouldn't be able to keep his voice steady. "We've studied them in their natural habitat, but we've yet to successfully acquire a living jellyfish to work with. Maybe, if we could just capture one, we could figure out exactly where our coding issue lies, better… better understand the best way to… persuade them…" Francis forced his face away from Epsilon's when he was overcome with the need to cough.

"And how do suggest we go about acquiring this living specimen? All of our previous attempts ended with the jellyfish turning aggressive and swarming us."

If Francis had not been half-dead at the moment, he would have smiled.

"We go to the experts."

* * *

And that was how Francis found himself in his current predicament, sitting behind Epsilon in a small grayish-green aircraft on their way to trick the cryptid experts, the Saturday family, into helping them obtain an atmospheric jellyfish. They'd gone over the Saturday files extensively, and though the Graymen had prepared for several outcomes, Francis knew that most of their plan outside the general framework would have to be improvised, due to the nature of the jellyfish. But something was bothering him. It would seem incredibly suspicious for Francis to be working on the device, completely absorbed, but still treat Epsilon as though he were a live bomb, giving him the utmost obedience and respect that he demanded.

Knowing the time before the initiation of the mission was evaporating, Francis tentatively cleared his throat. "...Father?"

"What, Francis." It wasn't a question. With Epsilon, it almost never was.

"About the mission…" He gulped as Epsilon glared at him through the overhead rear-view mirror. "If we're going to pull this off without arousing suspicion, I'm going to need permission to…" Francis took a deep breath.

"To _what_."

"...To be disrespectful to you. Rude. This way, I can focus more on the coding and causing chaos with the Saturdays none the wiser, just seeming like another spoiled child ignoring their parent, and they'll be so appalled by me that they won't suspect what we're really up to."

Epsilon narrowed his eyes, mulling it over. "Very well, permission granted. Just know that if this fails, you _will_ be punished for your disrespect."

Francis pushed down the panic welling in his chest at the thought of what failure would result in for him, returning his face to a blank expression. An effective agent had to be a superb actor, after all. It was time to get into character. "Yes, sir… Dad."

And with that, Francis pulled the troublesome control device out of his bag and set to work.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Francis's mouth. He was going to enjoy this.

* * *

Francis could have scoffed at how easy it was to locate the Saturday airship and attract the jellyfish swarm. Honestly, the giant orange aircraft was an invitation to attack if ever there was one. It didn't even have cloaking capabilities!

Sighing, Francis turned his attention back to the control device, pressing the keys randomly to enrage the gelatinous swarm. Just as they'd predicted, the creatures descended on their gray and green craft. Epsilon activated the distress signal as they drew close enough to the Saturdays. A female voice came through the radio.

"This is Airship Saturday responding to unknown aircraft. Please repeat the nature of your emergency."

"Well that's rather obvious, isn't it?" Francis muttered to himself as the jellyfish began tearing at their circuitry.

Several explosions wracked the craft. Epsilon struggled to keep the plane steady until the time was right to launch the escape pod. Francis tried to ignore the way the plane rocked and jolted and began to fall, furiously hammering the buttons on his game. _Breathe. Focus. This is just like any other mission._ Never mind that half the aircraft was in flames.

Epsilon hit the eject button and suddenly they were toppling through the air. Flipping end over end, the pod arced up in the atmosphere and then back down towards Earth.

What was taking so long? Francis had read the file. He knew the Saturdays were too stubbornly heroic to let them fall to their deaths, even if they didn't know who they were. Yet they were falling, hard and fast. Struggling to not vomit or panic, Francis glanced at Epsilon. As always, the agent was unfazed, as though it were perfectly natural to be plunging toward the Earth in an escape pod swarmed by angry cryptid jellyfish.

The jellies on their escape pod fled as some sort of giant magnetized claw clamped down on it. Francis almost let out a sigh of relief. However, the Saturday's retrieval device did nothing to stop their descent. They were still falling, now taking the giant airship with them.


End file.
